


Observations From A Sleepyhead

by Kineil_D_Wicks



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Short Stories, because it was always the fluff that got me in this show, but now collected together for your convenience, lots of crossposting from fanfiction.net, posted individually on FFN, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kineil_D_Wicks/pseuds/Kineil_D_Wicks
Summary: Life doesn't always have to be fighting evil and saving the day--sometimes it's the domestic stuff.  Like teaching a 200+-year-old man how to use modern appliances.





	1. Ichabod Crane and the Microwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFN when the show was still going strong on the TV. Man I miss this show....  
> Original bumper at the end there.

“And that’s everything in the living room,” Abbie concluded, reaching the kitchen.  “Now here we have the blender, the oven—I know you know how _that_ works—the refrigerator, the toaster—”

“What’s that?” Ichabod interrupted.

Abbie gave him a peculiar look. “A toaster,” she said slowly, pointing at it.  “It turns bread into toast.”

“I deduced as much,” Ichabod said testily.  “I was indicating _that_ device.”

Abbie followed his pointed finger.  “That’s a microwave.  It’s,” she paused, unsure how to proceed.  “It’s like an oven, but faster.  Let me show you.”

She pulled open a cupboard, looking for something quick to cook.

“Yes,” Ichabod muttered, glancing around behind her.  “Everything seems to be faster in this time.  Doesn’t anyone savor the wait anymore?”

Abbie turned to him, a pop tart in her hand.  “Do you want to wait for this?”

Ichabod waved her on.  “No, by all means, demonstrate.”

So she did, and after ninety seconds she was handing a fully cooked pop tart on a plate to Ichabod.

“There, see?” she asked as Ichabod took a bite.

“Ugh, this is dreadful,” he said, making a face.  “It obviously hasn’t been cooked long enough.”

“You’re supposed to cook it that long.”  She glanced at her watch.  “I’m going to go get some sleep.  I’ll come pick you up in the morning.”

With that, she left, leaving Ichabod with a device he didn’t fully comprehend.

 

Abbie pulled up to the cabin, tranquil in the early morning.  She got out of her car and stretched.

A sharp crack split the air, followed by several more.

Abbey ducked down, gun out.  Those were gunshots.

She ran into the cabin, ready to shoot.  “Crane!”

“In here!”

She ran into the kitchen, ready to shoot—

She stopped, not comprehending what she was seeing.

“Left-tenant!” Ichabod scolded, pulling her down behind the island.  “Please show some more sense than that!”

“What happened?”

“Obviously, we’re dealing with something evil.  I daresay it’s in league with the horseman.”

Abbie gave him a deadpan stare, then winced at an electrical hiss.  “I’ll take care of it.”

She crawled out from behind the island, ignoring Ichabod’s exclamation of “Lieutenant Mills!”  She reached the wall outlet and unplugged the microwave.

Instantly the hissing and spitting died.  Abbie stood up, holding the plug, and examined the remains.

The microwave was decimated, smoke pouring out, several bullet holes littering the front.

She turned to Ichabod, who had risen from his hiding spot and was now looking quite sheepish under her glare.

“Why did you shoot the microwave?”

“Because it hissed and spat worse than anything I have ever heard.  I thought it was an evil spirit possessing the device.”

Abbie carefully opened the microwave.  “Did you put metal in here?” she asked, pulling out a plate with gold trim.

“No, I put a plate with eggs in there.”

She could see that.  “You’re not supposed to put metal in a microwave,” she said, indicating the gold.  “That’s what makes it hiss and spark.  Next time, unplug it.”

“There won’t _be_ a next time.  I refuse to touch that infernal device.”

Abbie rubbed her temples, thinking.  “Okay, I have another idea.”

She led him outside to the grill.

“Turn on the gas, press the igniter,” she directed, showing him the flame the grill produced.  “The rest is old-fashioned cooking.  And it’s nice to metal.”

Ichabod nodded.  “Yes, this seems more workable than that device you showed me.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

 

The next day, on her way to pick Ichabod up, Abbie heard a call go out over her radio: fire trucks needed at the cabin.

Abbie picked up her receiver.  “Lieutenant Abbie Mills, I am near the site and heading that way.”

When she arrived, she saw that firemen were busily extinguishing the grill.  Ichabod was seated nearby, covered in soot and looking frazzled.

She walked up to him.  “Now what?”

“You might have mentioned,” he said testily.  “That it was important to turn the gas _off_ when I was finished.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite parts of the Sleepy Hollow TV show would have to be the interactions between Abbie and Ichabod. I just had to wonder how Ichabod would react to a microwave. :)


	2. Upon Unearthing Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which speculation on Crane's status when he's dug up occurred...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 3/3/14 on Fanfiction.net

Abbie ran through the forest, Jenny hot on her heels.

“Are you sure this is the area?” Abbie asked frantically.

“Pretty sure,” Jenny replied.

Abbie gritted her teeth; this wasn’t the sort of information she wanted to hear after escaping from purgatory: Ichabod and Katrina missing, and Henry….

“I just realized something,” Abbie said.

“What?”

“I can’t leave you people for ten minutes—you’re just no good by yourselves.”

 

They reached the four white trees.  No one was around.

Abbie glanced briefly at the trees, then looked down and away.  She couldn’t stomach the thoughts that those things brought to her….

She felt her eyebrows furrow.  “The ground has been disturbed here.”

She and Jenny examined the disturbed ground.  Three feet by six feet, big enough for—

Abbie and Jenny locked eyes.  “Crane.”

 

It had taken a bit to find a pair of shovels, but in short order they were digging up the ground, frantic.

“How long do you think he’s been under?” Abbie asked as she dug.

“Does it matter?” Jenny asked.

Abbie stopped and stared.

“What?” Jenny asked.  “ _You_ said that the last time he was buried, it was for over two centuries.  I think he’ll keep.”

Abbie shook her head and kept digging.

Her shovel connecting with something hard.

“I think I found the casket,” Abbie announced.

Within a few short moments, the casket was uncovered.  They scrambled out of the grave, tie in tow, and pulled the lid up.

Ichabod Crane glanced up briefly.

“Oh, hello,” he said, going back to his phone.  “I have good news: I utilized this time trapped here to finally figure out this device.  I have my name on the screen now, and I’ve discovered a much smaller version of table tennis on this…hold on….”

The girls were quiet for a long moment.

Finally, Jenny looked at Abbie.

“I have to admit,” Jenny said.  “That old phone really holds a charge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said in my original posting that this was speculation on the Season 2 premiere of the show, and that if it happened I would die. I survived, but the accuracy was uncanny. XD


	3. Televised Tribulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But what does the Horseman want with a...a television?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something silly that occurred to me after watching the episode "Heartless."
> 
> Sleepy Hollow © 2013 Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci

When Abigail Mills first heard of the robbery on Main Street, she was glad. It was just so _normal_ that it was a breath of fresh air.  Crane didn’t quite understand her enthusiasm, but she could forgive him for that.  A year ago…well, she’d still be excited.  Sleepy Hollow used to really live up to its name.

Boy, had _that_ changed.

Once they got there and had a chance to view the security feeds, however, her opinion had quickly changed.

“Why would the headless horseman steal a TV?” Abbie wondered out loud for perhaps the fifth time, scanning the shelves for anything relatively or even remotely supernatural in the little electronics store.

“Why indeed?” Crane echoed, examining a VCR flashing _12:00_.  “I would think he would share an opinion similar to mine on the device.”

“And what’s that?” Abbie asked, curious to his opinion now that he was more familiar with modern technology.

“That it is an utterly vexing device that spews out a never-ending dredge of sewage.”

“I don’t know, that one show on Monday night is pretty good.”

Crane paused for a moment.  “I do admit, the male lead in that one is fairly dashing,” he conceded.  “But it still fails to answer your original question, left-tenant.”

Abbie had forgotten.  “Which is?”

“What does the horseman want with a….” he gestured at the strewn devices.  “A _television?”_

 

Abraham was beginning to regret this.

He had been overjoyed when Katrina came back, yes, and was willing to show her the lengths he would go to earn her love…but her request had been utterly bizarre.  What on earth was a television, anyway?

So she had explained, he had gone to fetch it….

And now they were sitting on a long bench in one of the rooms, watching the small device (after she had sent him back out for some bizarre trinkets called _batteries_ ) as Katrina explained what was happening on the tiny stage.

“Now you see, _she_ really loves _him_ and _he_ really loves this _other_ girl,” Katrina was exuberantly explaining, pointing and occasionally tapping his arm, thoroughly caught up in the…drivel.

“I…don’t quite follow,” he admitted finally.

“Oh don’t worry—Ichabod couldn’t understand it either,” Katrina tossed.

_That_ steeled his resolve; if _Crane_ couldn’t conquer this, then he _certainly_ would.  “Perhaps you should explain it to me again.”

So Katrina did so, leaning towards the television a bit as she described why so-and-so didn’t like so-and-so….

And as immersed as they were, they both missed Henry walk by the doorway, freeze, and then hurry by as fast as he could when he heard what they were talking about.

After all, there were some things even _he_ wouldn’t soil his hands with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FFN on 11/17/14
> 
> It's been a while since the show aired, so for anyone who didn't know/doesn't remember, _Sleepy Hollow_ was originally on Monday nights. :)


	4. Headless Communications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous moment thought up when watching the Season 2 Fall Finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely certain about the length of this one, or even if it's funny, but it made my parents laugh when I told them, so there you go. :)
> 
> Sleepy Hollow © 2013 Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci

Abbie freed Katrina just as she heard the loud _thunk_.  She turned, worried—

To see the Horseman’s axe head had hit the ground.

The Horseman backpedaled as fast as he could as Crane advanced on him, Methuselah’s Sword at the ready.  He hit a stump and froze, Crane touching the sword to his chest.

“Where is Moloch?” she heard Crane demand as she and Katrina ran over.  Abbie briefly wondered how Crane expected to get an answer—well, they could ask Katrina….

The Horseman held up his hands, then two fingers.

Abbie and Crane exchanged glances.  _What?_

The Horseman held up one finger, then tapped his forearm three times.

Abbie looked back at Crane.  “Is he using that Charades game to communicate?” Crane asked.

Abbie shrugged.  “Well, if you stop and think about it….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FanFiction.net on 12/8/14


	5. Vocal Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been expecting all sorts of poor attempts at torture. This—made him long for those attempts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short and (not so) sweet Sleepy Hollow story that I was inspired to post after hearing that Sleepy Hollow was renewed for another season back in ye oldene days. I don't know why, but Henry made me think of a certain space villain.
> 
> Sleepy Hollow © 2013 Alex Kurtzman; Roberto Orci

Had Henry known that this would happen, he would have never let himself be caught.

"Do it," Jennifer commanded.

"I refuse," Henry snarled.

"Say it," Abigail said.  "Or else."

"I hate to fall into such a cliché, but or else what?"

"Or else we make you and Crane spend quality time with each other."

Crane ducked into the Masonic cell.  "I've made my feelings clear on this," he declared.  "Do not drag me into this."

And with that, he scurried back out.

"Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Jennifer declared.

"Or you can say what we want to hear and this can go much more smoothly," Abigail finished.

Henry gritted his teeth—he did _not_ want to do this.

But if he didn't, then he'd be sitting here with a feeling akin to having his teeth pulled.

"Fine, _fine_ ," Henry snarled.  " _Just_ one."

Abigail and Jennifer nodded.  "Fine," Abigail said.

Henry sighed and cleared his throat.

"'The force is strong with this one,'" he quoted.

Abigail and Jennifer exchanged high-fives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FFN on 4/9/15


	6. Funky Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you stop a Crane from sulking? And what exactly is a record player?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something inspired by one of my playlists….My Mom is a fan of the song "The Pied Piper" by Crispin St. Peter, and when looking it up, I was reminded of the episode featuring the Pied Piper in Sleepy Hollow. And then I remembered the Sandman, and then I wondered how Abbie and Ichy handled such songs, and it went from there.
> 
> Sleepy Hollow © 2013 Alex Kurtzman; Roberto Orci

It had been a few weeks since Abbie’s unintentional time trip, and things had not quite gotten back to normal.

Crane was still in a funk, sulking about Corbin’s cabin.  Understandable. The whole thing with Katrina was a mess.  Couple that with Henry, and the Cranes were the very definition of a dysfunctional family.

“Why do they say it like that?” Abbie asked, frowning slightly.

“Say it like what?” Crane asked, glancing up.

“People call families with issues ‘dysfunctional families,’ but I can’t think of any families that _weren’t_ at one point or another—I mean, even the Cunninghams on _Happy Days_ were dysfunctional: the oldest brother went up the steps and never came back down.”

“I find it somewhat refreshing that we’ve known each other for this long, and yet you still say things that I do _not_ understand.”

“Where did I lose you this time?”

“Cunning-hams?”

“ _Happy Days_ —Corbin used to watch it.  He had stacks of oldies that he’d play on his record player.”

“You’ve done it again,” Crane groused.  “What on earth is a ‘record player’?”

Abbie couldn’t help but laugh.  “Funny thing is, _I_ asked him that question when he first mentioned it.  And _then_ he had to explain 8-tracks to me—”

“I don’t know what that is either.”

“I tell you what,” she said, looking around.  “I bet those old records are around here somewhere—let’s find them.”

 

A half-hour’s search turned them up, hidden in a closet.

“Here they are—Corbin’s classics,” Abbie announced, pulling the lid off the box.

“Ah, so he enjoyed Mozart?” Crane asked.

“Only when he was feeling pensive.  Here—the Chordettes, the Temptations, Crispin St. Peter, Chuck Barry, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons—”

“I’ve never heard of any of them.”

“Well, they’re from the fifties.”

“The nineteen-fifties?”

“Yes….”

“And how does that make them classic?”

“I forget you’re older than these.”

“I suppose relative to you they’re classic.”

“Let’s play a few,” Abbie suggested.  “You’ll like them.”

She handed a stack to Crane.  “Pick one,” she commanded.

He started sorting through them.  “I…don’t know what this is.”

Abbie looked—the J. Geils Band.  “I think that’s one of mine.”  She looked through her own stack.  “How about ‘Mr. Sandman’?”

“After dealing with that creature?”

Abbie remembered the monster that had pursued her in her dreams.  “Good point—scratch that one,” she declared, tossing the record on the couch.  “Okay, how about ‘the Pied Piper’?”

“That’s not much of an improvement—or have your ears healed faster than mine?”

“Okay then, not that….‘Bad Moon Rising’—oh, come on, this is ridiculous.  We can’t have our entire playlist ruined because of our roles as Witnesses.”

“Mozart is sounding very appealing right now, isn’t it?”

“Har har. Come on—we’re going to pick a song, and we’re going to play it, and we’re going to jam to it.”

“So now we’re making preservatives?”

“Jam is dancing.”

“Are there any words in this time that still retain their original meaning?”

“You mean like ‘awful intercourse’?”

“Your attempt at humor leaves something to be desired.”

“And you’re unintentionally funny at times.”

“How so?”

“Remember your first experience with donuts?”

“And how was that funny?”

“It just was.  Now where’s that record player?”

 

Jenny arrived at the cabin to hear music playing.

A little confused, she shifted the take-out to her other hand and opened the door, pushing it open to see—

Abbie and Crane, dancing to music—or trying to.

“Oh come on, you call that dancing?” Abbie asked.  “Look at you—you’re way too stiff.”

“And _you_ are much too loose,” Crane returned.  “That was _much_ too suggestive.”

“No, Elvis’ hips were much too suggestive.   _This_ is modern dancing.”

“There is that ‘Elvis’ fellow again—who is he?”

Jenny swung the door shut behind her, alerting them to her presence.

“So,” she asked.  “Would this be Crane getting out of his funk, or getting _into_ funk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FFN on 4/16/15


	7. Go, Go, Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because inevitably Ichabod Crane and Molly Thomas will become friends, and what better way to bond than trapping wild animals in tiny balls? Or as Ichabod calls it: saving Washington, DC from the scourge of invisible monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was written up when the new season of _Sleepy Hollow_ had come back and Pokémon Go was spreading like a Pokerus--in retrospect, the show events leading up to this season made no sense and it could have easily been retooled to keep Abbie in the show and just have them relocate to protect DC from evil-dude (seriously, she was going to be a federal agent before the crazy started), but...ah well, c'est la vie.

Molly was sneaking up on a bush when a very distinct and oddly familiar voice cut through her concentration.

"Miss Thomas!"

She turned to see the gangly form of Ichabod Crane hastening over to her.  _Hastening_ being the term used because it matched what he usually said and therefore became a word she associated with him, along with _therefore_.  It was like listening to the soldiers on _Pirates of the Caribbean_ —very proper, and she sometimes wondered if there were pirates lurking nearby when she listened to him.

"Hello, Mr. Crane," she greeted, glancing back down at her phone.  Still there.  "Did Mom send you to pick me up today?"

"Ah, well," Ichabod hemmed, affecting his extra-straight stance with some small rocking and nose-scratching; ah, so Mom was still on the _let's ignore all the weird stuff going on_ kick.  "Ah…you…truly should not be out wandering by yourself—it is _very_ dangerous, specifically for a young lady such as yourself."

"But there was a _Pinsir_ ," Molly protested.  "They're really rare.  I _had_ to catch it."

"I…do not follow.  What pincer?"

"Hold on—I think it's still there," she said, aiming the phone.  "Yeah! Right there!"  She held the phone up higher for Ichabod to see.

She could have laughed at how his face paled, half of one of his old-fashioned oaths dying on the way out.

"Miss Thomas," he said, carefully but firmly putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her back behind him.  "Keep your phone trained on the beast—we must be very careful not to exert its wrath.  Don't worry, I have experience in this matter—we will get you to your mother and handle this."

"You play _Pokémon Go_?" Molly had to ask; she didn't think Ichabod would be interested in that sort of thing.

"I assure you, this is no game—I have encountered glamour like this before.  Rest assured, we will find a way to trap or destroy this beast—"

"I was just about to do that," Molly said, stepping around Ichabod.  "Here, watch."

She flicked her finger across the screen, sending a Pokéball bouncing off of the Pinsir and capturing it.

"My word," Ichabod breathed, wide-eyed at the event.  "That was brilliant."

"I've been practicing," Molly said, going along with the unspoken request and allowing him to take her phone and look around with it—well, _look around_ wasn't entirely accurate.  More like methodically scanning the area for threats through it.

"And the action you performed," Ichabod said cautiously.  "That traps the beasts?"

"Yeah.  You catch Pokémon and level up and rarer Pokémon appear—"

Ichabod suddenly stiffened.  "Miss Thomas, there's another one."

"Yeah—they're all over," Molly said, holding up her hands for her phone.  Ichabod lowered it down to her, never wavering from a fixed position of focus.  "That one's a Venonat—there's a lot of bugs around here, but you can get different ones in other spots in the city."

"There are _more_ of them," Ichabod said, with the tone of someone sensing impending doom.  "How many more?"

"Well, they just updated it, so there's like…three hundred now, I think."

Again, one of those old-fashioned oaths.

"Miss Thomas," he said briskly, handing her phone back to her.  "You must catch this one immediately—we have no time to waste.  We need to scour the city and catch all these creatures before they can do any damage."

Oh…kay….That was a little intense….

But!  She wasn't about to criticize an adult somewhat-family-friend who offered her to take her to different Poké-spots around town.

Besides, she reflected as she flicked a Pokéball at the Venonat, she felt safe with Ichabod around.

 

Special Agent Diana Thomas was _not_ happy.

When she arrived at Molly's school to find Molly _not_ there, she managed to hold off on calling in the National Guard long enough to call Ichabod Crane, suspecting that he had something to do with Molly not being there.

Her instinct had been right on the money, seeing as her call went something like this:

_"I can't talk now, Agent Thomas!  We're on our way to the National Mall—keep your phone handy and call the Vault!  There's a hostile invasion of monstrous beasts—so far Miss Thomas has been able to capture them, but we need backup at once!"_

Hence why she was speeding towards the National Mall, occasionally cutting a glare at Jenny Mills, who was currently bracing herself with one hand on the ceiling, one hand on the door, and both feet planted firmly on the floor of the van.

"I used to watch this navy-something show with my boyfriend," Jenny said, sounding a little strained.  "Tell me, does everyone in DC drive like a maniac, or is it just the federal people?"

"I want to know," Diana hissed.  "What part of _keep the freakiness away from my daughter_ you people did _not_ comprehend."

"Hey, if there's some sort of monster invasion, being with Crane is one of the safest places Molly can be," Jenny said, half splaying the hand that was near the dash.

Diana resisted rolling her eyes—she needed them on the road—

"There!" Jenny said suddenly, pointing—and probably regretting it, considering the sharp turn Diana made.  She was already out of the car and halfway to Crane and Molly, gun drawn, before Jenny could recover and run after her.

"Crane!" Diana yelled.  "What—"

Crane held out a finger, not moving from his position of staring intently over Molly's shoulder.  Under other circumstances, the way Crane was bent would almost be comical, free hand half-raised next to Molly's shoulder.

And then he dropped his pointing hand to hover next to his belt, where she was sure a gun might be hidden—maybe he had gotten tired of her comments about the crossbow.

"I have you covered," Crane said evenly to Molly.  "Should the beast charge.  Steady…."

Molly flicked a finger over her phone before she and Crane made simultaneous motions of victory.

"That is another down," Crane declared, standing and turning to address Diana.  "Did you call the Vault?  We need a better approach than just hunting these monsters down individually."

"I… _what?"_   Diana asked, lowering her gun and half-shaking her head in absolute consternation.

"Mr. Crane has been helping me catch Pokémon!" Molly said brightly.  "We've caught a Scyther and a Clefairy and a Dratini and a _lot_ of Eevee and Pidgey—"

"You—" Diana holstered her gun quickly before she was tempted to shoot Crane.  "You—you get all worked up and want me to call the Vault and get them ready for a full-scale monster invasion—for a bunch of _Pokémon!?"_

"These beasts have similar glamour to the Dire Sisters," Crane insisted, pointing off, glancing down at Molly to see if she had found another one.  "So far through some method Miss Thomas has been able to neutralize them—"

 _"It's a game!  An app on the phone! Millions of people play on it every day!"_   Although Molly might not for a few weeks after this.

Crane, at least, looked a little sheepish when this sank in.

"Ah…well…that wasn't… _fully_ ….And to be fair, I had good reason to believe otherwise…."

Diana turned to Jenny, hoping exasperation was evident in every line of her being as she gestured at Crane.

In response, Jenny shrugged.

"Well, to be fair, he _did_ think his microwave was possessed once."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original blurb on FFN:  
> Ah, the lovely return of Sleepy Hollow….To be fair, while I do very much miss Abbie, I do like the dynamic building up with this new group. And the idea of Ichy hanging out with Molly and contrasting dead seriousness with child's play while Diana hovers overhead….
> 
> Had my parents read this, and Mom suggested putting this in the crossover section, since I referenced Pokémon pretty heavily in this. And wow, first Sleepy Hollow/Pokémon crossover, and they haven't gotten the new characters into the character select system yet?
> 
> Disclaimer: I have not played Pokémon Go (although I so very dearly want to at this point) so what we have here is based on about five minutes of research into the Pokémon to be found in DC and what I've seen of the game. But you have to admit, it fits nicely with the whole "Glamour doesn't affect technology" thing. :)
> 
> And Jenny is most likely referencing NCIS, by the way.
> 
> Originally posted on 1/27/17


End file.
